


Domestic

by icaruslaughed



Series: Suptober20 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic destiel, Jack being Jack, M/M, Post Season 15, domestic tfw 2.0, its happy for once i promise, it’s implied anyway, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslaughed/pseuds/icaruslaughed
Summary: Day 7 of suptober2020
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober20 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955047
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Domestic

**Author's Note:**

> I was tired writing this so not only may it be only okay, but it may also make no sense as i drank a little too much Writer’s Go Juice

* * *

Dean picks up another pair of jeans from the dryer and folds it neatly before putting it in the laundry basket. Yes, he actually finally got around to doing laundry; it surprises even him, to be completely honest, but it’s not like he’s got anything better to do. Things have been quiet since Jack killed Chuck and took his place in the cosmic scale. Although Jack may be powerful enough to fill in the role of God, he certainly isn’t old or mature enough so he hasn’t exactly  _ done _ much in the way of divine intervention, meaning things are boring as ever. There aren’t even any cases for them to work, which really sucks since at this point, Dean needs something to kill because it’s either that or cope with his feelings for...certain people. And he’d take the former over the latter any day.

It’s how he found himself in the laundry room. He goes through about four types of days, and this one is what he likes to call one of the Obsessively Cleaning the Most Obscure Corners of the Bunker or Areas Where Nobody Expects To Find Him When They Come Looking days. It’s not like he has a  _ problem _ with people talking to him--the worst fight he’s had with anyone since killing Chuck was with Sam, over why they do not need to be spending nearly as much money as they are on veggie bacon--but he doesn’t feel like explaining why he goes through days like this. He doesn’t even know if he  _ can _ . He knows why, of course, but he doesn’t even want to talk about it with himself.

“Hello, Dean.” Well, speak of the devil. Or, well, the devil’s brother (technically speaking).

“Heya, Cas, how’d you find me?”

“Oh, I was just wandering around the bunker and I heard you singing something-” he trails off, regret and doubt already shadowing his face at his apparent intrusion of Dean’s privacy.

“Oh, cool. I was just...doing laundry.” An awkward silence fills the air, tension so thick he could probably physically cut it with a knife. What  _ kind _ of tension it is, however, eludes him. Or perhaps he eludes it. Either way, he doesn’t quite know what exactly he’s up against.

“Do you mind if I help you?”

He hesitates. He sees the disappointment in Cas’s eyes when it looks like he’ll say no and it spurs him into action. “Sure. I’m almost done with Sam’s stuff, and then I’ve got to take mine to my room.” He scoots over to make room on the floor for Cas to sit next to him. 

They work in silence for the most part, making small talk here and there. It’s not uncomfortable silence though. It’s the kind you share with your best friend that’s been through the world’s end with you multiple times and who knows all your deepest, darkest secrets. Most of them anyways. Some things you keep to yourself no matter what. But aside from the dark thoughts running through his head, it’s a nice moment. It’s something he’s only really had once with Lisa, and he can’t help but marvel in the simple domesticity of it.

  
  
  


~~~~~

  
  
  


A few weeks later, Dean starts to notice a few of his shirts have gone missing. Normally he wouldn’t think anything of it, but he’s got his clothes down to a schedule that more or less aligns with cleaning days. Unfortunately, today doesn’t really feel like one of those days. Maybe he’ll wash Baby or something. After breakfast, of course.

Sam’s already made pancakes and is frying up something else by the time Dean manages to put on something acceptable to wear. He finds Cas sitting at the table wearing one of his stolen oversized Led Zeppelin shirts and it awakens some spark of warmth in his stomach. He appears to be in the midst of a heated debate with Jack about what sounds like why all fruits should be named after colours and perhaps even why tomatoes truly shouldn’t belong in that category.

“Fruits have seeds and tomatoes have seeds, therefore by definition a tomato is a fruit,” Cas insists.

“Right, and I’m not saying you’re wrong,  _ however, _ fruit is something you have to feel in your heart, and my heart is telling me that tomatoes are not fruits,” Jack says, turning to look over at the door where Dean watches in confusion. “Back me up here, Dean,” he asks when he notices him standing there.

“Uh, I’m gonna have to side with the kid on this one, Cas,” he shrugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “He’s got a point about fruit being more about a feeling than fact.” He sees Jack pump his fist in the air in victory and Cas frowns at both of them. Sam’s laughter carries through the room from over the sound of something—bacon?!— sizzling in the pan.

“Sam, I don’t see how this is funny. Don’t tell me you agree with them too?” Cas gets up and goes to help serve bacon and pancakes with maple syrup. God, they smell so good they leave Dean’s mouth watering.

“I will  _ not _ take a side in this kind of argument; I learned my lesson on that back when Dean and I were kids,” Sam laughs, carrying plates over to the table and sitting down.

In the couple seconds of silence that followed them all settling down at the table, Dean jokingly asks, “So, shall we say Grace?” Jack looks vaguely confused and Cas looks downright uncomfortable, while Sam and Dean proceed to laugh their asses off, Dean nearly falling off the bench if not for Cas’s arm holding him up.

Shooting Dean a Look as if to say, “ _ Oh we’re doing a bit? _ ” Sam clasps his hands together and closes his eyes. “We would like to thank our Heavenly Father—no, Son—for this blessed meal that... I just cooked for him, and for, er, not making the decision to officially re-name all fruits. Amen.” 

Everyone else does their best to echo the “Amen”, but Jack starts giggling hysterically, Dean joining in soon after, and even Cas smiles and chuckles a little.

  
  
  


~~~~~

  
  
  


Later that evening, they all gather in the Dean Cave to watch the second Star Wars trilogy after seeing the first one last week. Jack sits crossed-legged on a pillow in front of the tv, Sam has his feet kicked back in a recliner next to Jack, and Dean and Cas are curled up on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in each of their laps.

Jack seems to genuinely enjoy the movie and it makes Dean feel...Proud doesn’t even come close to covering it, but it’s the closest word in the English language, which just so happens to be the only one he knows. So yes, it makes him proud of the kid—God—he’s helped raise, even if he did do a really shitty job of it at times. 

Sam, on the other hand, looks  _ way _ too comfortable on that recliner and as his older brother, Dean feels it’s his responsibility to change that. Reaching into the bowl on his lap, he pulls out a couple pieces of popcorn and throws them at Sammy, trying to angle the throw so it seems like it came from over by Jack.

“Hey! Who just threw popcorn at me?” Sam exclaims, looking around the room suspiciously. Jack looks innocent no matter what and Cas just isn’t the type to do something like that, so Sam figured out the culprit fairly quickly.

Accepting defeat, Dean throws out one of his incredibly iconic witty one-liners, “Hello.” He gives Sam his best shit eating grins and waits for retaliation.

Soon enough, the whole room is engaged in all-out popcorn combat, Cas getting caught in the crossfire earlier and having absolutely  _ none _ of that. Then, just as quickly as they started, they stop upon running out of popcorn to throw and settle back into their respective places.

Both Sam and Jack end up dozing off and it gives Dean the courage to lean closer to Cas, resting his head on the angel’s shoulder, terrified of being pushed away but his sleep/muddled brain never really liked helping and it sure as hell isn’t gonna start now. However, Cas snaked his arms around Dean’s waist and pressed his lips to the top of his head. Sure, it could be interpreted as platonic, but why would he? It’s only platonic because of the words unspoken, the words that don’t  _ need _ to be spoken because they both just...know. 

And if they just so happen to both wake up in Dean’s bed the next day to Sam pounding on the door because breakfast is ready, and he just so happens to put two and two together because he also just...knows, if Sam just rolls his eyes and mutters, “About fucking time,” then that’s nobody’s business but their own.


End file.
